"Robert Sheckley. The Day The Aliens Came (англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автора

Observing the expression on Simon's face, the little man said quickly, "But
there's a lot to be said for an enlightened aristocracy. The wise old king of
Peru (a philosopher-king in the deepest Platonic sense of the word) sorely needs
your help. His tiny corps of scientists, humanitarians, Swiss guards, knights of
the realm and royal peasants is sorely pressed by the foreign-inspired. A single
man, you know - "
"I'm not interested," Simon said.
"In China, the Anarchists - "
"No."
"Perhaps you'd prefer Communists in Wales? Or the Capitalists in Japan? Or if
your affinities lies with a splinter group such as the Feminists,
Prohibitionists, Free Silverists or the like, we could probably arrange - "
"I don't want a war," Simon said.
"Who could blame you?" the little man said, nodding rapidly. "War is hell. In
that case, you've come to Earth for love."
"How did you know?" Simon asked.
The little man smiled modestly. "Love and war," he said, "are Earth's two staple
commodities. We've been turning them both out in bumper crops since the
beginning of time."
"Is love very difficult to find," Simon asked.
"Walk uptown two blocks," the little man said briskly. "Can't miss it. Tell'em
Joe sent you."
"But that's impossible! You can't just walk out and - "
"What do you know about love?" Joe asked.
"Nothing."
"Well, we're experts on it."
"I know what the books say," Simon said. "Passion beneath the lunatic moon - "
"Sure, and bodies on a dark sea-beach desperate with love and deafened by the
booming surf."
"You've read that book?"
"It's the standard advertising brochure. I must be going. Two blocks uptown.
Can't miss it."
And with a pleasant nod, Joe moved into the crowd. Simon finished his coca-cola
and walked slowly up Broadway, his brow knotted in thought, but determined not
to form any premature judgements.
When he reached 44th Street he saw a tremendous neon sign flashing brightly. It
said LOVE, INC.
Smaller neon letters read, Open 24 Hours a Day!
Beneath that it read, Up One Flight.
Simon frowned, for a terrible suspicion had just crossed his mind. Still, he
climbed the stairs and entered a small, tastefully furnished reception room.
>From there he was sent down a long corridor to a numbered room.
Within the room was a handsome gray-haired man who rose from behind an
impressive desk and shook his hand, saying, "Well! How are things on Kazanga?"
"How did you know I was from Kazanga?"
"That shirt. I always look at the shirt. I'm Mr. Tate, and I'm here to serve you
to the best of my ability. You are - "
"Simon, Alfred Simon."
"Please be seated, Mr. Simon. Cigarette? Drink? You won't regret coming to us,
sir. We're the oldest love-dispensing firm in the business, and much larger than